


Knock Once

by unklarity



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: AU, F/F, help my neighbor might be an international assassin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-05-19 18:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unklarity/pseuds/unklarity
Summary: Collection of shorts in which Eve has a feeling her new neighbor might be a murderer.





	1. Hello Neighbor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve meets her new neighbor.

“Hello, and you are…”

Eve shifts her weight to one foot, moving the casserole dish to her left and and holding out her right. “I’m Eve? Your next door neighbor. I just wanted to say hello, bring you something to eat, you know...be neighborly.”

The woman raises an eyebrow. She’s young and bright-eyed, with long, honey-colored hair and full lips, not that Eve notices. “Oh. Well, hello neighbor.” A thud echoes across the walls in the  
apartment behind her. “Goodbye, neighbor.” She moves to shut the door, but Eve steps forward, blocking the entryway.

“Wait!” she half-shouts, eyes wide, “before you go, just take the pie.” She holds out the dish with both hands now. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

“What kind?” The tiny, almost imperceptible upturn of her lips gives Eve the smallest bit of hope. She’s silent for a moment before she realizes she’s been asked a question. “Oh! Sorry. It’s Shepherd’s Pie. Do you like it?”

“Villanelle,” is all the woman says. It’s punctuated by a groan from inside. And then another thud. Eve swallows thickly, torn between wanting to ask and wanting to run. She settles for tilting her head and saying, “what?”

“My name. Villanelle. It was nice to meet you, Eve. Thank you for the pie.” She takes it from Eve’s hands. ‘Now, I have to go. My angry uncle is helping me move. Keeps tripping over boxes.”

Eve can do nothing but stare as she turns with a tiny wave, pie balanced in one hand, and slams the door. 

Well, then.


	2. Jazz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eve is an unreliable narrator.

She’s not a naturally suspicious person. Or at least, not usually. Usually, she’s perfectly rational, willing to think of all possible causes to a problem. No one would call her a conspiracy theorist.

That’s why it’s so strange that Eve thinks her neighbor is a murderer.

First of all, her name. Villanelle. Obviously fake. Second, she comes and goes at all hours of the day and night, sometimes coming back with injuries or in various states of disarray.

Third, and worst of all, is the noise, and the music she plays to cover it up. The groaning, the thudding, the shrieking, the moaning; the French jazz does an awful job of masking the myriad of sounds that seep through the walls, heedless of the time. Eve can’t sleep, and it’s starting to get on her nerves. She’s convinced something is going on over there.

So she decides to investigate. She visits the landlady downstairs to ask if she knows anything (which she doesn’t). Mentions casually that suspicious sounds tend to come from Villanelle’s apartment and that maybe Eve should check on her - you know, the neighborly thing. Miss Tattevin agrees. “You’re a sweet girl,” she says. “And she’s all alone. I think she could use a friend like you.” Eve doesn’t tell her that friendship is absolutely not her intention. She’s not even sure what her intention is. “I’ll do my best, Miss T.” 

Before she goes, the woman taps on the table to get her attention. “Eve.”

“Yes.”

“I like the jazz.”

Eve sighs. “I’ll let her know you said so.”


	3. Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her neighbor is...odd.

Villanelle’s new neighbor is...odd.

It started with the pie. It was delicious, and if she was being honest, she’d say she wanted more of it, but she’d never voice that thought out loud. She makes sure to leave the dish outside Eve’s door during the night so she doesn’t have to endure any unnecessary conversation. As she places it on the welcome mat, she has to stop herself from knocking. Stupid pie.

After that, it’s the hair. 

She watches Eve from her balcony. She’s outside at the bus stop, pulling her hair up at various heights before dropping it back against her shoulders. This happens about ten times before she can’t stand it anymore. Up, down, up, down. Doesn’t she have anything better to do? She puts it in a high bun, and Villanelle finally exhales, thinking she can get some peace; within a moment it’s down again, and her hands are already brushing through it again. She should stop that. Her hair looks better loose, anyway. It’s curly, dark, voluminous; it frames her face nicely-

She takes a deep breath, squeezes an eye dropper, letting a drop of essential oil fall into a glass container. Getting out of her seat, she removes the mask from her face, approaching the railing and looking down at Eve. She clears her throat, but it’s not quite loud enough to get her attention, so Villanelle decides to try another tactic.

“Hey!” she shouts, making Eve jump and whip her head around, trying to find the source of the voice. “Up here.” As if it’s not obvious.

Eve finally looks up at her, eyes wide, evidently surprised. “Um, what is it?”

“You should wear it down,” Villanelle says, before turning and walking back into the house, shutting the glass door behind her.

She goes to the fridge and opens up a bottle of champagne.


	4. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seven days of silence, she returns.

Villanelle has been gone for a week. Sweet, sweet silence has reigned in the building for seven whole days.

Eve is suspicious. 

Every day, she waits for the noise to return, and every day so far, she’s been disappointed. Today, though, she’s just come in when she hears Miss Tattevin talking to someone, and decides to move a little slower on her way down the hall.

Her neighbor is walking up the stairs, carrying an assortment of balloons. Eve trails behind her, watching her push the cloud of balloons through her door.

“Having a party?”

Villanelle freezes, turning toward her like a deer in the headlights. The first thing Eve notices (after the balloons) is a scrape on her chin and a bruise under her right eye; the second is the ridiculous pink tulle dress she’s wearing. It looks like she’s come straight off a runway, minus the injuries. She clears her throat, silence stretching between them for a moment before she replies, “No. It was my uncle’s birthday. I got stuck with the decorations.”

“The angry uncle?”

A frown. “That one.”

“Are his favorite colors pink and yellow?” Her neighbor narrows her eyes, and Eve smiles, trying to figure out how balloons could possibly be related to murder.

“Practical joke,” Villanelle finally says, pushing the door open wider. “He did not like the balloons. So I took them home.”

Eve nods her head, looking at the bags on Villanelle’s arms. “Do you need some help?” she asks, and the woman moves away from her, surprisingly agile despite all that she’s carrying. “No,” she answers, stuffing the balloons through the doorway and climbing over them into the apartment. Just before the door shuts, she hears it, almost quiet enough to miss.

“Goodbye, Eve.”


	5. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eve thinks too much, and remains an unreliable narrator.

She’s out having a drink with Bill when she first realizes it.

“So you think she’s, what, a serial killer?” He’s staring at her like she’s just told him her plan to take over the world. Eve thinks he may be exaggerating just a bit.

“No, more like, an assassin or something. Spy, maybe.”

Bill gives her another stern look. “Are you listening to yourself?” 

“I’d put money on it.” At that, he raises an eyebrow, sliding closer to her across the table. 

“How much?” 

“Oh, I don’t, know,” she replies, downing what’s left of her glass of wine in one gulp. “20 pounds?”

Bill rolls his eyes. “You must not believe it, then.”

What? Of course she believes it. She’d bought binoculars to watch her when she jogged, dammit. She catalogues the various noises she hears in a notebook and tries to figure out what the could be. She’s even tried looking her name up on Facebook, for God’s sake.

“You know, this doesn’t sound so much about you being obsessed with figuring out her secrets as it is you being obsessed with her, darling.” 

Sometimes Bill is too smart for his own good. It’s really too bad he’s her boss, or she’d tell him to fuck off. Luckily, this time he is mistaken; she’s not obsessed with Villanelle, she just wants to find out what’s going on. If her neighbor is secretly a contract killer, or even just a secret agent, doesn’t she deserve to know?

Of course she does. That’s it. Not obsessed, just...concerned.

_Oh, god._

Eve grasps the stem of her wine glass tighter. “Has Keiko ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?”

“I say it with love, Eve.”

“Oh, fuck off.”


	6. Recollection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian lets a certain thing slip.

They’re sitting on the couch, fighting over the remote, when he suddenly remembers.

“Someone asked about you the other day.” He turns his head to her, and Villanelle takes the opportunity to change the channel. Sebastian sighs, defeated. Cutthroat Kitchen, _again_. He's pretty sure they've already seen this episode at _least_ once. 

“Was it an Asian woman with amazing hair?” She asks almost without looking, and doesn’t seem surprised. She’s put the remote on her side of the couch now, and he watches, waiting for an opening. 

“Um, yes. Yes it was.” Sebastian tries to remember the rest of the night, but it’s mostly just fuzz. He’d been headed downstairs when the woman had opened her door and asked if he’d wanted some pie. He certainly wasn’t going to turn down pie; neither he or Villanelle knew how to cook, despite the endless amount of cooking shows they watched, and he hadn’t had a home cooked meal since he’d moved over a year ago.

Villanelle smiles. “Oh, Eve. So subtle.” 

She stands abruptly, patting him on the head and dropping the remote into his hands. Sebastian moves his fingers instinctively, typing in “512” and shouting in victory as the opening for _Simplemente María_ appears on the screen. He’d been afraid he was going to miss the recap of the last episode.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, and he nods, idly wondering where she’s going. Oh well; at least he gets the remote while she's gone.


	7. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve has an unexpected visitor.

There’s a knock at the door. Thinking it’s got to be Bill, she doesn’t bother putting pants on; her shirt is long enough. She finishes wrapping the towel around her hair and opens the door, coming face to face with someone who is _definitely_ not Bill.

Eve is pretty sure her face cannot get any redder.

“Hello, neighbor,” Villanelle purrs. “A little puppy told me you have been asking about me.”

“Well, um,” Eve stammers, “if you mean Sebastian, I did find him passed out on my doorstep at 3AM, and when I tried to find out which apartment was his, he started crying that he was lost and needed to call you. So yes, you were a topic of discussion.” 

Her neighbor raises an eyebrow, and Eve takes the opportunity to pull her shirt down a bit. Villanelle’s eyes follow her hands, and she stands corrected; it was indeed possible for her blush to get even deeper. 

“And what did little Sebastian tell you, my dear?” she asks, pushing Eve further into the apartment an inch at a time, until they’re both clear of the door and Villanelle shuts it behind them. _Huh_ , Eve thinks belatedly, _I probably should have used the peephole. I’d hate to die without pants on_.

__“He mostly just kept repeating that you smelled nice? I wasn’t sure how drunk he was, so I fed him and brought him home once he sobered up a little.” Eve feels a little guilty for lying, but she’s fairly certain Sebastian won’t remember too much of their little exchange. Villanelle hums, reaching out and tugging at a piece of hair that’s fallen out of her towel._ _

__“Oh, Eve.” She tucks the strand behind Eve’s ear, and Eve moves just a tiny bit closer to her without noticing. Villanelle leans in, her voice only a whisper. “Admit it. You bribed him with pie.”_ _

__Eve’s mouth falls open, inhaling sharply as she feels a warm puff of air on her cheek._ _

__She’s totally fucked._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up kiddies, it’s about to get gay


	8. Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the lost suitcase.

Eve sighs, trudging up the stairs with her carry-on and unlocking the door, collapsing on her couch with a sigh. She’s just gotten back from a trip to Berlin, and in a stroke of misfortune that really isn’t all that surprising, they’ve lost her suitcase. She can live without most of the stuff inside, but she is a little bummed at the thought of her favorite green scarf possibly being gone forever.

She’d filled out a claim form and headed home, and now, she’s laying on the sofa imagining the current location of her luggage. Closing her eyes, she shrugs off her coat and grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and decides that it can’t hurt to take a little nap after all of her airport stress.

It’s a great plan, in theory, until she remembers where she lives.

Her eyes are shut for all of thirty seconds when the banging starts, closely followed by yelling, and an unidentifiable sound that she really, really hopes is not a drill. “Can I seriously not have five minutes of peace in my own house?” she asks herself out loud, groaning and pushing off the blanket. Berlin had been wonderful. No mysterious drilling noises, no thudding, no incessant music. At the moment, she just wants to go back, luggage be damned.

Instead, she storms out of her apartment, knocking loudly on Villanelle’s door and tapping her foot angrily until it finally opens. 

Villanelle stands at the door, wearing only an oversized white button-down shirt, her hair up in a bun at the very top of her head, looking like she hasn’t slept in days. She doesn’t say a word, just looks Eve up and down, one eyebrow raised. Eve suddenly feels all the anger drain out of her, replaced by something she can’t quite recognize. She takes a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts so she doesn’t make a fool of herself.

“Look, Villanelle, I’m sure you’re busy doing, well whatever you’re doing-”

“Spit it out, Eve.” The corner of Villanelle’s mouth turns upward, and Eve wonders why she feels relieved at the hint of a smile on her neighbor’s face.

“Fine. I had a terrible day, the airport lost my luggage, and I just want to sleep. Can you please, _please_ try and keep it down?”

Villanelle is silent for a moment. Then, she nods. “I will try and be quiet, yes. Go to sleep.”

Eve opens her mouth and shuts it again a second later. That had not been the answer she was expecting. “Oh,” she finally says. “Okay. Thanks, Villanelle. I, uh... I guess I’ll be going now.”

Looking at her one last time, Villanelle closes the door halfway before she pauses. 

“It was boring without you, Eve,” she says simply, smirking, and before Eve can even think of a reply, she slams the door shut. Eve hears the deadbolt click into place.

Maybe she needs a glass of wine before her nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit long, for reasons :)


	9. Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle gets an idea.

Villanelle is coming inside with a few bouquets of flowers for her coffee table when she sees the postman dropping off a rather large box. She steps a bit closer, an evil smile lighting up her face when she sees that the package is addressed to one Eve Polastri. “Oh, I think you’ve got my suitcase,” she says sweetly, standing in between him and the front desk. 

“Name?” he asks, pulling out a paper and looking it over.

“Eve. Eve Polastri.” she answers. What’s a bit of fraud between neighbors, really? After all, Eve did try to bribe her best friend with pie. It’s the least she could do.

Luckily, the suitcase isn’t heavy, and she manages to get it up to her apartment in the same trip as the flowers. She grabs some vases and fills them with water, arranging the bouquets on the coffee table, and then pulls the suitcase out of its box and rolls it into her bedroom.

A few hours later, Eve’s belongings are spread out across her bed, and she’s got some music on as she twirls in front of the mirror, wearing a teal dress. There’s no way Eve could have worn a bra with this, Villanelle thinks, and the thought makes her giggle; it definitely doesn’t seem like a dress she would have bought herself. That, of course, leads her to wonder if someone else bought it for her, which leads her to stop twirling, sitting on the bed and crossing her arms.

Villanelle thinks she’s quite finished with the dress. She takes it off, balling it up and shoving it back in the suitcase, covering it with a few other items for good measure. During her rearranging, she sees a flash of dark green, and picks up a gorgeous silk scarf, wrapping it around her neck and inhaling.

It’s in that moment that she first has the idea.

She goes to her dresser, rooting through the hundreds of bottles of perfume littered over the surface, until she finds exactly what she’s looking for: an unopened bottle of her personal masterpiece. Grabbing a notecard and an envelope, she writes a quick message before wrapping both the box and the letter up with an elastic bow. Then, she moves around the contents of the suitcase to fit the box inside, deciding at the last minute to refold all of the clothes she’d shoved back inside haphazardly. She’s just a good neighbor like that.

Zipping up the lid, Villanelle picks up the suitcase and places it back in the box she’d retrieved from the living room. She takes one last look at herself in the mirror, twirling the scarf and tucking it into her shirt, and then heads downstairs. Luckily, she manages to catch Miss Tattevin in front of her door, and she leaves the suitcase with her. _The postman left this at my door_ , she says in her sweetest voice. _Would you please watch over it until Eve gets home? I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it_.

She smiles to herself as she walks back home and shuts the door, wandering over to the radio and turning up the volume. Payback’s a bitch.


	10. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The suitcase returns home.

Miss Tattevin waves to Eve as she walks into the building. “Oh, hello there dear. Your darling little neighbor brought me your suitcase this afternoon. Seems they left it at her door by mistake.”

Immediately, Eve freezes, eyes wide, and knows that something is terribly wrong. Still, she can’t tell their landlady that Villanelle is possibly a dangerous assassin and shouldn’t be trusted with her luggage, so she just smiles. “Ugh, isn’t she just so sweet?”

Her landlady nods and clasps her hands together, the barest hint of tears evident in her eyes. “I’m so glad you two are getting along.”

Eve pats her hand, waiting as the woman fetches her suitcase; after promising to visit for tea this weekend, she heads back to her apartment, all the while eying the box in her hands like it contains something explosive. She slides it in the door with her foot, dropping her bag and kicking off her shoes before carrying the suitcase into her room. Sitting on the floor, she slides the zipper open, rooting through her clothes to check for knives or explosives.

That’s odd, she thinks as she opens the top section and sees that everything is in the same place. No disturbed bras, all her underwear is in the same place; everything is still neatly folded. The only thing she can’t find is her green scarf; she must have packed it with the rest of her clothes by mistake. She tugs on the zipper covering the main compartment, and instead of seeing her clothes on top, she sees a black box that is _definitely not hers_.

She stares at the box for a long time, not moving, almost afraid to touch it. After a while, she realizes there’s not much to do except open the damn thing. Taking a deep breath and accepting her impending death, she picks up the box, lifting off the lid. Eve belatedly wonders if she should have written a note saying _my neighbor killed me_ , but it’s too late at that point. Her murder will have to remain unsolved.

The lid falls to the floor. Well, this is unexpected. Instead of explosives or body parts (which, admittedly, would not have fit in a box that size), all that’s in the box is a bottle of perfume and a note. Still suspicious, but slightly less terrifying, at least. Suddenly, a memory comes back to her; she recalls Sebastian telling her that Villanelle worked at a perfume company, and things start to tumble into place, anger seeping in to fill in the cracks left by adrenaline.

The perfume label says _La Villanelle_ , because of course it does. This was never about subtlety, was it? Despite herself, Eve opens it with a huff, spraying it on her wrist and inhaling deeply. It smells...nice? It’s the same scent she remembers from when Villanelle had whispered in her ear. She feels her face flush, dropping the bottle in the suitcase in favor of placing a hand on her cheek. So, her mysterious neighbor has a perfume named after her, and apparently likes to steal people’s mail and go through their underwear.  
Idly, she looks over her folded up dresses and slacks, picking them up and tossing them in a pile by her closet, and then it hits her, like salt in the wound. Her scarf is nowhere to be found.

She slams the box down onto the floor, frowning as the note falls onto her lap.

_Sorry baby x_

Eve crushes the note in her hand, suddenly not caring how dangerous her neighbor might be. Doesn’t really matter. 

She’s not going to let this go.


	11. Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve thinks she has a solid plan.

Eve looks out the window and sees Villanelle enter the building.

 _Here goes nothing_ , she thinks, tugging at the hem of her shirt and slipping her key into her bra. She exits the apartment, shutting the door behind her and banging on the wood, jiggling the doorknob. “You have got to be kidding me,” she groans, rather loudly, hearing her voice echo in the hallway. A few seconds later, she sees the infuriating face of her neighbor, walking down the hall with a shopping bag on each arm. Villanelle stops, apparently surprised to see her.

“Oh, hello,” she says as she retrieves her keys from her pocket, looking Eve up and down and smirking at her bare legs. “Nice outfit.”

Eve sighs, reminding herself of the plan, and that she _really_ needs it to work. She glances down, trying her best to look embarrassed. “Villanelle, I need your help. I locked my keys in my apartment, and I have to go see Miss T, but I’ve really got to pee first and her bathroom smells like cat.”

A smirk. “Did you also lose your pants?”

“Villanelle, please.” She can’t help rolling her yes, but it’s probably better that way. Villanelle might get suspicious if she’s too nice.

“Oh alright,” her neighbor shrugs, heading to her door and opening it. “Come on then.” She drops her bags by a short coffee table covered with flowers and turns back to Eve, pointing to her right down a small hallway. “Bathroom is there. Let me change, then I’ll go get the old lady. She’ll probably be too scandalized by your legs.” 

Fighting to ignore both Villanelle’s comment and the blush making its way down her face, Eve heads to the bathroom. It’s decorated with a beach motif, and every visible inch of the sink is covered in perfume and makeup bottles. She washes her hands, somehow managing not to knock anything over, and heads back to the living room, sitting on the couch. To entertain herself, she looks around the living room; there’s a small TV, a bookshelf, and a little table that holds the dreaded radio. A bulletin board hangs on the wall above the table, full of postcards from various cities. Being an international assassin must be a good travel opportunity, she thinks. Eve almost wishes she’d brought her phone so she could get some hard evidence, but she knows the plan wouldn’t have worked if she had a way to call the landlady. She’s got to make it realistic, and if that means she’s stuck here unable to document anything, than so be it. This step in the plan is all about revenge.

She’s so wrapped up in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice Villanelle come back into the living room until her neighbor standing right over her, now wearing a tank top and gym shorts in lieu of her blouse and slacks. “Hello, are you in there?” she asks, waving a hand in front of Eve’s face, which finally snaps Eve back to the present.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asks, mentally scolding herself for getting distracted. Villanelle smirks.

“I said, there’s champagne in the fridge if you want.” she says, pointing to the kitchen. “Oh, and Eve?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a good look on you. ” Before Eve can even respond, she skips out of the apartment, shutting the door behind her.


	12. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle takes a trip downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting for this! With the KE news I’ve been inspired to continue this little story :)

“Oh, hello, my dear. Did you need something?” 

Miss Tattevin is wearing a velvet bathrobe that, frankly, has Villanelle quite jealous. It’s burgundy, embroidered with poppies and mushrooms, and she has half a mind to ask the woman where she got it. That will have to wait, though; she’s on a mission right now. She puts on her cutest face and bats her eyelashes, clasping her hands together under her chin. “Eve sent me, actually. She locked herself out of her apartment and asked if she could borrow a spare key.” 

Her landlady looks absolutely beside herself with joy, and opens the door to let her in. “Of course, dear,” she replies, glee evident in her voice, “what a great friend you are.” She ushers Villanelle into the kitchen, sitting her at the small table and shoving a cup of tea into her hands before she can protest. “You wait right there, I’ll go get the key. Sugar is in the frog.”

“Sugar is... what?”

Miss Tattevin sighs, pinching her cheek slightly, while Villanelle tries her best not to flinch. “The frog, dear,” she says as she disappears down the hall. Villanelle looks down to the table, and sure enough, a porcelain dish shaped like a frog stares back at her, his little hollow body filled with sugar. Her landlady is definitely unhinged. 

She spoons a bit of the frog-sugar into her cup, stirs the tea slightly, and takes a sip, wondering what trouble her neighbor is getting up to in her apartment. She’s got to hand it to Eve, she’s definitely an intelligent woman, and very determined. It’s as charming as it is infuriating. She’s probably digging through Villanelle’s closet right now, looking for her scarf, touching all of Villanelle’s things with that cute little pout on her face, thinking she’s won.

It occurs to her that perhaps she’s underestimated Eve, and the thought makes Villanelle giggle. It’s been a long time she was entertained this much, and even longer since she was so invested in another person. Eve makes things more interesting. 

And for some reason, she doesn’t want their game to end just yet, so she settles into Miss Tattevin’s creaky kitchen chair and takes another sip of her tea.


End file.
